When I was in high school, options were slim for a kid who was into math. Senior year brought a choice between basic statistics and a light introduction to calculus—hardly enough to satisfy a mind eager for challenge. Meanwhile, a few older friends were off taking engineering courses at the nearby community college. That’s when the light bulb flickered on.
“Why not me?”
This was years before the rise of AP courses, so in a way, maybe I was ahead of my time. I decided to enroll in Calculus 1 and 2 during the day, leveraging the fact that I had already knocked out most of my high school graduation requirements. Little did I know, it wasn’t just the math that would change the course of my life forever.
The community college had a commons area that was everything you’d hope for: a cafeteria, a bookstore, ping pong tables, and a lounge anchored by a well-worn baby grand piano. It was a hub of life, and often you could hear a bearded guy laying down some spirited boogie-woogie on those faded ivories while we all scarfed down our lunches.
One afternoon, when the piano player was mysteriously absent, I wandered over to the keyboard. I had taken a few music lessons back when I was ten and figured I’d poke around and see if I could still find a tune. As I started pressing keys, something rattled deep inside the belly of the piano. Curious, I peered through the cracks in the old wood.
There, wedged among the strings and hammers, was a harmonica.
I fished it out, much to the confused amusement of my classmates. Without thinking, I gave it a few experimental honks—earning some groans and glares from the crowd. Embarrassed, I stuffed the harmonica into my pocket and returned to my awkward plinking on the keyboard.
But that night at home, everything changed.
I pulled the harmonica out again. I tried a few simple notes. Something about the sound, raw and soulful, sparked a fire inside me. It was clumsy and awkward at first, but undeniably magical. That little discovery lit a passion that would carry me through the next five decades.
The harmonica became my secret key—an instant ticket into jam sessions, garage bands, and late-night porch concerts. Wherever I went, it seemed to open doors. Musicians, generous with their time and wisdom, would invite me in, show me licks, teach me tunes, and share their stories. The harmonica became more than an instrument; it was my passport to a lifelong journey through the world of music.
I had gone looking for advanced calculus.
Instead, I found the soundtrack to my life tucked away inside a dusty old piano.
Funny how life works, isn’t it?
